


Love Hard, Fight Harder

by whatkindoftea (haeli)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Wuxia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/pseuds/whatkindoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho gets told to leave the nest, Changmin has a thing for white robes; and somewhere between kung fu, kidnapping rings, and awkward moments they manage to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WennyT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/gifts).



> As always, this is for Wenny, who wanted Wuxia Homin. Based loosely on The Legend of the Heroes of Condor, and I hope she likes it because this is part [super fucking late] birthday present and part friendiversary present now.

 

Yunho took a life for the first time when he was six years old.  The knife had been unwieldy, and Yunho was forced to hold its wide handle with both hands as it slipped slow and slick into his attacker’s stomach.  Hot blood spilled over his fingers, and Yunho felt the man’s arms grow weak and heard his breath rattle in a final gasp as they both fell to the ground.  He stands up, hands coated and sticky, knees shaking, but still alive, which is more than can be said for others.  

 

“What’s done is done,” his teachers comment, the six of them surrounding him in a semi circle, and they wipe his fingers clean as Yunho stares at the redness streaking down his palms and staining his soft skin.  One of their enemies escapes, fleeing like a coward.  The body of his fifth teacher lies in the corner as a reminder of how dishonor can spread and infect others, and Yunho vows to never use a knife or a sword again. 

 

So instead he learns to use his fists and feet and the strength of his own body, training for more hours than the sun stays in the sky over the Mongolian plains each day with his teachers who are masters in their own right.  He does this year after year after year until he’s twenty-two and towers over all six of them, broad and strong.  Even so, they still drill him relentlessly.  

 

“Again,” his fourth teacher calls from the corner of the room, pushing him through forms, and Yunho’s legs threaten to collapse under the strain. The eighth hour of training has come and gone, and Yunho has only misstepped twice - a vast improvement from his difficult progress as a young teenager when he was constantly stopped for corrections.   

 

His muscles coil and limbs extend, and Yunho tries his best to think like water.  Each step flows from him, smooth and liquid and powerful until he comes to rest minutes later, waiting for approval. 

 

His teacher nods, “Again.”  And so it goes until the much anticipated call to stop. 

 

“Go clean yourself up, you smell worse than a horse,” his teacher orders, but there is a soft fondness to the words. “And when you’re done, come to our tent.”

 

With a nod, Yunho does as asked - like he always has.  He bathes quickly, scrubbing the sweat from his chest and face before donning clean clothes.  The evening is warm, spring fully settled across the plains, so Yunho wears simple clothes, perfectly appropriate for a meal with his tutors. 

 

They eat together, the seven of them, talking and laughing and enjoying a rich stew prepared earlier in the day, and the warm atmosphere leaves Yunho completely unprepared for when his second teacher announces without preamble that it is time for Yunho to leave.

 

“You want me to go away?” Yunho questions, trying not to pout as he sits cross-legged on the ground beneath the canopy of the tent.  He feels like a child again, with his teachers sitting across from him with knowing expressions, and a hollowness blooms in the center of his chest at the thought of leaving his home, his teachers, his mother, his everything. 

 

“It’s time,” one of the masters pours himself a cup of horse’s milk, “You have learned all we could teach you, but there is so much left out there!” He gestures enthusiastically, the milk in the cup threatening to slop over the sides, “Leave the plains, go to the eastern cities! And find a new master while you’re out there.  A master who will be able to teach you more than us, who will be able to show you true power.”

 

“But I can control my _qi_!” Yunho protests.

 

“You think that’s the end?” His first teacher scoffs, and Yunho flushes, “You are ready to find out what’s beyond our abilities, and you are more than capable. You could be a great man in the future, but you need...” he trails off, looking to his peers for help but they offer him none.  “You need to learn wisdom as well as justice.” 

 

“So I need to find a new master to teach me wisdom or one to teach me more techniques?” Yunho fights back a pout.  He doesn’t want a new master.  He wants to stay here. 

 

“You’ll pick up the wisdom as you experience life,” the fifth teacher smiles, “You’re a young man now Yunho - it’s time for you to start living.  Go east and learn from someone who will be able to teach you these things.” 

 

And even though it breaks Yunho’s heart, he agrees.  In a fortnight, he is gone from the plains, burdened with coin as a sign of the khan’ favor and blessing, and he strikes out across the landscape.  He rides hard for days on end, needing to put distance between himself and his home at the risk of giving up and going back because it would be easier than pressing forward.  He stops to rest in the evening when it grows too dark to see or when his horse refuses to go another step further. 

 

Ten days into his journey, the land changes and _Luòyáng_ rises up against the horizon, the capital city a loud mark dashed across the silence of the surroundings, and Yunho finds the sight unsettling - so different from the flat sprawl he’s used to - but his horse needs tending, and the  provisions he carried out wit him have begun to dwindle.   He can also hear his teachers voices nagging him to start looking for a master, as if they were sitting just behind him scolding over his shoulder.  Supposing this is as good an opportunity as any to hear about any possibilities, Yunho decides to make for the walls.  

 

The feeling of unease that flickered at first sight of the city tightens in Yunho’s stomach as he dismounts and passes through the gates, letting the energetic crowds carry him forward.  The noise of the city is a cacophonous medley of merchants calling and food sizzling.  It smells of spices and sweat.  People shout and crowd in around Yunho as he makes his way with ears buzzing and eyes wide to the new sights.  His practical riding clothes stand out among the colored robes of even the common people.   Yunho’s mind spins at the activity of the overwhelming crowd, and a desperate desire to go home rears up against ravenous curiosity, catching Yunho between them. 

 

People jostle and push passed him, some coming to just his shoulder, and the occasional stare is thrown his way.  It makes him uncomfortable until he realizes that his mount is drawing most of the attention as they traipse through the side streets.  Cheeks flaming at his own ignorance, he hastily  finds an inn where the gold he carries makes the keeper’s hands flap in hurried commands to have the horse watered and taken care, then suddenly he’s ushering Yunho back outside. 

 

“We must prepare your room, lord,” the man blabbers, continuing to gesture at workers with his odd jerking movements, “Come back soon.  Take time to become accustomed to the area - we hope you will grace us with your presence for more than one night.”  And with that he disappears back into the flurry.  Yunho blinks twice, staring at the entry way and slightly overwhelmed by all of the commotion he had not meant to cause.  Left to his own devices, Yunho takes the only bit of advice he has and begins to pace through the surrounding streets.  

 

“‘Send him to the city,’ they said. ‘It’ll be fun!’ they said,” Yunho mutters as an elbow attached to an impatient mother manages to catch him in the stomach as he does his best to not become lost in the throngs of people purchasing goods or eating buns or sometimes doing both at once.  The buildings and people press in on him, and Yunho finds himself thinking longingly of the plains with their open spaces and familiar scents of horses and grass and burning wood, and not least the comforting guidance of his teachers.  

 

He pushes closer towards the middle of the city, where the buildings are most sturdy and the businesses well established.  Sharply dressed men are more numerous here, and beautifully clothed women as well.  Yunho tugs at the rough, earthen colored fabric of his clothes, wishing they blended a little better.  His stature is enough of a difference - his height and strength setting him apart from many of the merchant men surrounding him.  Yunho searches for a calm corner to catch his bearings, and ducks in next to a pillar. 

 

Posters hang from the red-colored wood, most of them are paintings of men - some with beards and some without - all who look unpleasant.  Yunho pauses to glance at their faces, noting rewards and crimes, trying to memorize the slants of different noses and the shapes of their eyes in case he happens to cross paths with one of them.  With a final glance at the smattering of faces, Yunho steadies himself to dive back into the swarming street, but reds and yellows flicker at the edge of Yunho’s vision as he turns, and he tenses when a harsh call of for him to stop cuts through the bustling sounds of shops and carts. 

 

“You!” the voice reaches him again, and in a beat Yunho is surrounded by more than just customers.  The city’s guards cut a space around him, opening up the street, and the noise falls away as the people nearby quiet to watch. 

 

Yunho breathes, deeply and evenly through his nose, feet sliding into a wider, sturdier stance, as he turns his back to the post with the posters, blocking the guards from crowding in behind him.    He counts twelve men, but has no way of knowing how many are near by. “Good afternoon,” he inclines his head, but never lowers his eyes.

 

One guard to his right holds up a scroll of paper, another face painted across the surface and disbelief chokes the air from Yunho’s lungs.  The face has a beard, but the curve of his cheeks and slash of his brows looks similar to Yunho’s own, and a hideous sinking feeling drops through his stomach as everything starts to line up.

 

He scrambles to reassure them, “Sirs, I was-”  

 

“It’s him!” someone in the crowd shouts fanning the excitement flickering through the people, and murmurs of affirmation erupt.  Goaded, the guards start making jerking movements closer to Yunho, who fights down the erupting panic.  

 

“No,” Yunho tries to explain, unwilling to start a fight so soon after arriving.  He has a suspicion this is not what his teachers had planned for him when they told him to go and learn new things.  He needs to experience so many things, meet new Masters, discover new techniques, and going to jail is definitely not on the list of adventures. 

 

“No, I only just arrived here - I can’t have committed the crime this man is guilty of!” Yunho points out, but no one can hear him over the shouted accusations. 

 

“He’s a lying thief!” 

 

“He just shaved his sad beard! It’s him, it must be!”

 

Voices without faces punch through the growing noise of the crowd, egging the guards on and condemning Yunho before he has a chance to clear his own name.  The guards close in, and Yunho adjusts his stance once again - waiting to strike until he absolutely has to, until they leave him with no other choice but to fight.  

 

A flash of white steps in close to the ring of guards, and Yunho turns his gaze toward the movement, adjusting his mental odds, but pauses when he finds a woman standing at the edge of the circle.  Her height is the first thing Yunho notices. The second is her face - striking rather than soft, her cheeks highlighted by the way long locks of black hair have been pulled back into knots and adorned with delicate flowers and ornaments.  

 

She is beautiful, Yunho thinks, clothed in brilliant white robes with edges of the peach and pink hues peaking out cheekily beneath the pure fabric.  He notes that she arrived unaccompanied, and Yunho flushes at the implication of her trade from the adornments.   

 

“Excuse me,” her voice is throaty and quiet, deeper than the light bubbling voices of the women Yunho has encountered on the plains or heard talking in the city.  It dances like music, and Yunho is not the only one who has chosen silence.   

 

“Miss?” The guards pause in their advance to leer at her.  Ignoring their rudeness, she takes the opportunity to speak.  

 

“This man is not the one you are looking for,” the woman slips through a break in the guard’s formation, steps smooth and sure as she slides next to Yunho, wrapping long fingers around his tensed arm.  Her posture is turned inward, almost demurely, but Yunho thinks she may be taller than even he is, and he stares at her with wide eyes as she settles next to him, like this is precisely where she belongs.  Yet she ignores him completely as she speaks, “He was with me all of yesterday and last night.  He did not rob the merchant.” 

 

With effort, Yunho manages to rearrange his features into a neutral mask, attempting to appear comfortable in the woman’s presence when he feels anything but.  His heart is racing and his skin feels overheated where her hands touch him, the soft brush of the white fabric of her robes slightly maddening.  

 

“Oh?” One of the younger guards mocks, “Lucky boy then isn’t he?”

 

“Him and everyone with more coin than you,” one of his comrades jokes, and Yunho wants to lash out for their disrespect, but she appears unbothered. 

 

“He has promised to take me to lunch today,” she presses in closer against Yunho’s side, the length of her body a warm pressure that makes Yunho tense.  Her eyes widen before they flick to the ground in deference, and Yunho admires the way she plays the men in front of her.  The oddities of her features - the height and voice and too-wide mouth - are immaterial; she is able to manipulate them all with the flutter of her long eyelashes and quirk of her lips.   Yunho finds himself as helpless as the guards.  

 

One of them manages to gather his wits momentarily, “You would be willing to vouch for him?”

 

Yunho doesn’t look at the courtesan.  He tries to feign a cool indifference like he imagines a man of means would, ignoring the way his breath catches as her hands slide higher on his arm.   

 

“Oh, yes,” she smiles, eyes still cast down, and resignation descends on the crowd as the guard’s reason to be there is torn to shreds with her simple words. 

 

The crowd loses interest, bored by the arrested proceedings, and slowly begins to disburse when it becomes obvious that no one will be dragged away in bonds.  After a brief huddle, the guards take their leave as well. 

 

“Enjoy your day,” one of them jeers, making a crude gesture mostly lost on Yunho, as they move to continue the search.  The courtesan looks up at the guards’s backs, distaste twisting her mouth and furrowing her brows.  Yunho thinks it is adorable but keeps the thought to himself.  

 

“Thank you,” he pulls away from the woman as they are left alone by the retreating spectators, and gives her his best smile, the one that made all of the girls giggle and older women titter.  

 

“They’re pigs,” she sniffs, completely unaffected as she adjusts folds of her robes.  Yunho gets another glimpse of the warm pinks and peaches beneath the white, his mouth going dry at the sight, desire tracing a light path down his spine.  His hands itch to peel the pristine white layer back to glimpse more of the lively colors.  

 

She begins to walk down the street, and Yunho matches the pace of her long legs to keep up, shaking the thoughts from his mind. 

 

“How did you know I wasn’t the person they were after?”

 

She blinks at him once, before gesturing to Yunho’s entire appearance as though that explains absolutely everything.  Or maybe it does, Yunho is new here, he has no idea really.  He tries a different question. 

 

“What’s your name?” he ventures, grateful for the risk she took in vouching for him.

 

“Why do you care?” she seems uncomfortable, eyes narrowed and posture defensive, like at any moment she could burst into a sprint.  Or turn and fight, Yunho thinks, noting the similarities between his own fighting stance and the square of her shoulders as she pauses by a fabric stall. 

 

“I want to be able to thank you properly,” he assures her, hands upturned in a gesture of supplication, hoping it makes him look harmless and endearing. 

 

She runs her hand over a swath of cream cloth, and Yunho follows the light touches with his eyes, drinking in the way her long fingers splay open and touch the material.  Heat curls up the back of his neck, as she rubs the silk between her fingers, teasing and playing, mouth twisted in thought as she checks its quality.  Yunho feels warm and flustered and embarrassingly easy, like he did when he was fourteen.  

 

“How do I know you’re not going to report me for false witness?” She moves on to a violent red length. 

 

“Why would I do that?” Shocked out of his hazy thoughts by her assumption, Yunho casts about for a way to prove his honesty.  “I could give you a gift to show you my sincerity?”

 

“You think you have something I’d want,” she gives him a slow, appraising look, and Yunho ignores the implications he hopes are simply a trick of his own mind. 

 

“What about my horse?” 

 

“Your horse?” She seems vaguely amused at the idea, mouth twisting up at the side, and Yunho wants to turn it into a true smile. 

 

“Yes, I am sure he will suit your needs.  A Ferghana from  Mongolia and well trained.” Yunho loves his horse, has treasured him and grown with him for the past five years, but he would give him up if this woman asked it.  

 

“My lord, you are too kind, and I cannot accept your gift,” she sighs, moving away from the stall, with some strange emotion in her eyes as she watches Yunho.

 

They continue down the street in silence, Yunho’s persistence obvious as he follows her pointing out random things and offering to buy them for her, until the courtesan sighs, “You can call me Fánróng.”

 

“Prosperity?” Yunho glances at her hair and robes and the strangeness of her features and thinks she must indeed be prosperous.  “Fánróng,” he tries the syllables, “A very pretty name.”

 

This seems to displease the woman, and her mouth thins into a line at the compliment.  Yunho scrambles to recover.  He does not want her leave him alone quite yet - having someone to walk with makes the city feel less overwhelming, and Yunho wants to know more about this strange person who would do something so brave as lie to the guard for a complete stranger. 

 

“You don’t think it suits you?” He guesses. 

 

“No,” the word is drawn out, “I don’t think it suits _you_.”  Yunho pretends to know what she means. 

 

“Just call me ‘Fan’,” she decides instead with a quick little nod.  They pause in front of a large establishment, the smells of cooking meat and spices wafting from inside.  Fan inhales slowly, and Yunho tries once more. 

 

“Let me buy you lunch, Fan,” Yunho offers, trying to prolong their time together, “that way you have only told a half lie.”  

 

She stares at him, like she knows he has the coin to purchase her company for the remainder of the day, but Yunho hesitates to offer her that.  He wants her to make the choice on her own.  He wants her to decide to spend her time with him rather than be obligated to through contract.

 

A small man comes out from the building, smiling wide and eyeing the two of them.  “Come in! Come in!” He gestures animatedly to an empty table, and Yunho grins at Fan. 

 

With a flicker of a smile, Fan turns to the man and bows politely before launching into their order as they settle at the proffered table.  “We’ll have a plate of preserved fruit and a plate of fresh fruit before we eat our meal.  Make sure there are lychees, logans, and dates in both of them,” she sits at the table offered them and glances at the worker, “if you have them, of course.”

 

Yunho turns his laugh into a hacking cough when the man shoots him a look heavy with disapproval.  

 

Fan forges on, “Wine, of course, and stewed duck, fried duck, chicken liver, deer stomach, cooked beef with chestnut pieces, rabbit meat, and dumplings.”  She finishes ordering with a quick glance at Yunho, “That should be enough, right?”

 

Yunho stares at her thin waste and sharp cheekbones and wonders where she plans on putting all of this food.  “Ah, yes, I think that’s enough.”  

 

The small man nods, throwing another displeased look his way, before disappearing into the kitchen. 

 

The food smells delicious when it arrives - the spicy and sweet aromas of cooked meats and ripe fruits floating up from the small and large dishes littering the table.  Yunho eats with enthusiasm, days of hard riding and dried provisions leaving him with an emptiness in his stomach he is suddenly desperate to fill.  Fan picks from the various plates, but Yunho is unsure of how much she actually eats because he never sees her chewing anything.  

 

She does talk though, asking Yunho questions in that disarmingly melodic voice that has Yunho spilling his entire life story into her lap.  By the time the last plate has been cleared by the relieved serving staff, Fan knows nearly as much about Yunho as he knows about himself.  While Yunho only knows that Fan came to the city a season ago in order to escape an overbearing man.  

 

“How long will you be staying?” she asks as the conversation winds down.  Yunho had not thought about it, and tells her as much.  She surveys him with wide brown eyes, like she is doing her best to see his heart and weigh it in the palm of her hand.  “You are a good man,” she decides with a nod of her head, standing from the table with a soft rustle of silk, “Please be careful while you’re here.” 

 

Yunho laughs, a loud and startling sound, “I can take care of myself.” 

 

Fan raises an eyebrow, and Yunho regains control of himself immediately before asking, “Will I see you again?” 

 

The ornaments in her hair chime softly against each other as Fan shakes her head, “Not like this, my lord.”  Her meaning is obvious, and Yunho feels a little of his happiness deflate.  He knows he is terrible and selfish for not wanting to pay for her time.  Guilt creeps through him as he realizes this lunch alone was likely very costly to her.  But trading gold for her time feels so wrong, and Yunho cannot bring himself to do so.  Even so, he already craves her presence while she still stands right in front of him.  

 

A measure of his disappointment must show on his face.  Fan notices his expression and pauses in the gathering her robes to reach into one of the folds to produce a small rounded vase.  The porcelain is beautiful, a fine-lined design of furling clouds and steady mountains painted in black over its shining surface.  It is delicate and expensive, and attests to her status as a high end courtesan.  

 

Yunho makes a noise of surprise when Fan presses it into his hands.  It fits perfectly in his palm, a cool weight against his skin, and something rattles inside.  

 

“Medicine,” she explains, “Just in case you run into trouble.  It’s strong though,” she warns with a stern expression pinching her face,  “so don’t waste it.”  Yunho swallows when her hands curl around his fingers until they close tightly around the gift.  

 

“Thank you for the food,” she smiles down at him as she bows, and Yunho can only stare dumbly after her tall figure as she disappears into the busy market street.  

 

Carefully pocketing the gift in the bag on his waist, Yunho rises from the table, leaving more than enough gold ingots behind to appease the still irritated owner.  He steps back out onto the street only to realize he has managed to get himself thoroughly lost, the path back to his hotel a distant memory in his forgetful mind.  

 

It takes Yunho the better part of four hours finding it again, but he thinks getting to meet Fan was well worth it. 

 

* * *

 

 

Changmin watches from an obscure alley as Yunho returns to his inn, following the new comer’s progress through the crowds with a sharp eye and sure steps.  He pulls at the sleeves of his white robe, adjusting them across his frame, making sure they fall and fold in deceptive ways, giving him curves where he sorely lacked any such thing.   There was nothing he could do about his height when he chose Fánróng as his disguise, but the clothes and persona provided a modicum of trickery that allowed him to pass through the streets mostly ignored. 

 

Yunho on the other hand was proving to be a drastically different story.  Everything about him called for attention from the people he passes by.  Changmin keeps to the shadows, tracking the other man’s progress and watching carefully for any thieves or trouble makers that might see Yunho as an easy target.   

 

He had been angry at the guards and the crowds for making a scene when one was unnecessary, but surprised himself by stepping in to speak for Yunho.  Changmin grimaces; his pride and indignation managed to get the best of him once again.  But instead of running away like he did with his father, he follows Yunho at a distance, feeling an inexplicable need to help and look out for the older man.  

 

He watches as Yunho nearly manages to knock over a cart, too busy watching two young children play fighting on the other side of the street.  It seems obvious to Changmin that Yunho could use the assistance. 

 

“Idiot,” Changmin hisses, thinking of the way Yunho had casually shown off his wealth and offered up his prized possessions without a second thought.  He was either incredibly kind or incredibly foolish.  Or perhaps both.   Regardless of which it was, Changmin knew this city would eat Yunho alive.  

 

It was not a matter of strength - Yunho was obviously physically capable.  Heats climbs into Changmin’s cheeks as he remembers the feeling of Yunho’s arms beneath his hand and the obvious strength in his legs as Changmin had pressed against his body in front of the guards.  Yunho was strong enough, Changmin knew, but unfortunately there were people in this city who required other skills to dispatch.  More craft and stealth than brute force, which Changmin was lucky enough to possess in high quantities. 

 

And two months of quietly biding time away from his father, trying to learn what it was he wanted for himself, had made Changmin restless and bored.  Even with the appearance of an ignorant visitor from the plains, Yunho has the allure of adventure.   And that is partly what Changmin left home to find. 

 

“At least he’s handsome,” he adds as an after thought, before disappearing to return to his small rented room nearby to put on something more suitable for his needs.  He prays that Yunho stays out of trouble in the time it takes him to change.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

A fist plants itself in Yunho’s stomach, and Yunho wonders where the peace from the last three days went.  The guards had found the man Yunho was mistaken for, and Yunho had been able to search the city for word on a master with little trouble.  He had been picking out some final provisions from the market, preparing to move on with his search for a new teacher.  He had learned that a costal city was governed by a man with great knowledge and skill, and Yunho intended to seek him out.  However, he had been set on by three robbers as he haggled with a merchant, caught off guard and left scrambling, which is where he finds himself now - fighting off three strangers in the middle of a crowded market. 

 

He fights back, ignoring the nausea caused by the blow in favor of unbalancing one attacker then swinging around to block a kick from the second.  Adrenaline spikes, and Yunho’s breath tears ragged in his throat. The second mans springs back and reorients himself before launching another assault, leading with his left foot once again.  But Yunho is fast - years of training pumping through his blood and all of his movements are second nature, his hand flicking out and gripping the attacker’s ankle hard without a thought.  

 

With a twist of Yunho’s arm the man flips and collapses on the ground, landing painfully on his shoulders with a curse as a third attempts to crowd in behind Yunho.  His scent of sweat and smoke is easy to follow, and Yunho spins, grasping the man’s wrist and breaking it neatly as he sends the howling attacker to the ground as well.  

 

A crowd is starting to gather, shoppers pausing in the old street to watch with rabid curiosity. Yunho wants to end this now.  Focused, Yunho turns to face the first man who runs at him with a desperation that Yunho turns into his undoing.  Movements wild and undisciplined, the first assailant leaves himself wide open, and Yunho with steady hands and clarity executes a perfect _dian xue_ , fingers hard and pointed as they stab the man’s jugular then twice more on each side of his clavicle.  A choked exhale is the only sound the attacker makes as he crumples to the ground, energy sapped and body paralyzed, and Yunho revels for a moment in the feeling of success, smile breaking out across his face. 

 

 _That’s one_ , he turns to track the other two men, heart racing.  He uses the same technique to drop the second as quickly as the first, the broken wrist making the man vicious but clumsy.  Yunho grabs the mangled bones, twisting down before jabbing hard at the man’s neck and chest, watching him crumple to the ground with no small satisfaction. 

 

 _Now two,_ Yunho shakes his head, feeling the strain taking its toll.  

 

Someone in the crowd yells, “Watch out!” And Yunho scrambles to reorient himself to whatever is pulling the excited cries from the horde of people. 

 

Spinning, Yunho readies himself for what he’s sure is the third attacker, only to see the man collapsed, looking untouched but unmistakably unconscious, body limp and face lax.  Stepping closer, Yunho notices three slim needles sticking out of his neck, impeccably placed in his jugular, and a surge of panic punches through his chest as someone in the mob yells out again.

 

“On the roof! There’s someone up there!” 

 

Suspicious and anxious, Yunho pursues.  Using strength and tricks taught to him by his masters back on the plains, Yunho climbs the side of a merchant building, finding footholds and grips where others would slip and fall back to the ground.  His muscles ache, burning and protesting the entire climb, but he manages to reach the top of the slanted building.  At the other end of the long center beam, he sees a tall figure clothed in loose hemp, the green colors common and nondescript, their face covered by a swath of fabric, leaving only large brown eyes exposed.

 

Familiarity pulls at the corner of Yunho’s mind.  Trying to place if he has seen them before throws him off, and the momentary distraction gives the stranger their chance to bolt, leaping to the adjacent building with no small skill. 

 

“Stop!” Yunho shouts, scrambling to follow the stranger as they continue to fly across the buildings, and with each moment Yunho becomes more and more curious, fear of being attacked melting away as he watches the abilities of this person, surprised that someone so talented had been hidden in the city as well.  He grins and pursues harder, confident that if this person had meant to kill Yunho, he would have done it ages ago. 

 

Yunho’s movements begin to slow, even as the stranger continues their flight, and Yunho calls out, “Stop! I just want to talk!” 

 

The figure pauses at the edge of a building, flicking what might be an annoyed glance over their shoulder before dropping out of sight, and Yunho digs deep and finds new energy - he can’t afford to loose this person in the crowd, knowing he may never catch them again.  The thought spurs him forward at a reckless pace. 

 

Movements liquid and quick, Yunho drops down next to the person, managing to grab a handful of rough hemp fabric before the they can melt away into the busy street, hauling them back and pressing them into the wall.  Yunho can feel the coiled strength beneath his hands, and excitement licks his way up his spine.  Adventure seems to have found him at last, and Yunho’s dizzy with the possibilities. 

 

Wide brown eyes watch him through the gap in the fabric mask, unafraid and challenging, and Yunho can’t help the grin that splits his face at the prickly demeanor.   The stranger tries to throw him off, body shifting and arms moving to twist Yunho’s wrist free with quick practiced movements, but Yunho throws a block and shoves them harder, grin fading as he remembers the shining silver needles that were thrown with such expertise.  With his free hand he gathers the stranger’s wrists, holding them down with the end of his strength, and he realizes just how tired he is when it takes more concentration that it has in five years to keep the hold. 

 

Watching the person carefully, Yunho asks, “Who are you?”

 

His only reply is narrowed eyes and a renewed attempt at escape. 

 

“Stop,” Yunho squeezes the wrists in his hand in warning, “You’re obviously trained, even if those needles weren’t your work, which I’m sure they were.  Now, who are you?” Yunho presses, crowding the stranger in against the wall, trying to intimidate with his height and breadth, although the stranger appears to be just as tall as he is.

 

The stranger seems satisfied to glare and struggle in silence. Frustrated, Yunho huffs and releases the wrists in his left hand to pull the fabric free from their face, hoping that being uncovered will spur them into speaking, but instead Yunho is the one who ends up scrambling for words as the cloth falls away to reveal someone familiar.  The lush mouth and delicate cheekbones are unmistakable even in the dim alley.  Yunho has spent the better part of three days thinking about them after all. 

 

“Fan?” He chokes as he releases the front of her shirt, stumbling half a step back, reeling at the discovery.

 

Fan sneers at him, fixing her garments, pulling them so they fall just so, “Yes. Happy now?”

 

“Happy? Why would I-” Yunho blinks, confusion making him slower with his words than normal, “I take it you’re not actually a courtesan?”

 

“Well done. You figured it out, guessed my secret,” she stands stock still against the wall, watching Yunho with hard glinting eyes, “Now what are you going to do?”

 

“Why would I do anything?” 

 

“You expect me to keep buying the innocent peasant routine? After watching you dispose of three men like that?” Flagrant disbelief colors her tone as she blinks at Yunho from across the narrow side street.  “Who are you going to report me to?”

 

“No one!” He counters, hurt she still insists on suspecting the worst of him, “I would never hand you in - you’re incredible!” Yunho flushes at hearing his own words, but he refuses to take them back. 

 

“Thank you,” Fan tosses her head, flicking some strands of hair out of her eyes and looking pleased at the compliment.  Yunho thinks for all of three seconds before he makes his decision. 

 

“Even so, a woman like you shouldn’t be running around alone like this,” he straightens his shoulders, trying to use all the privilege his sex provides him, “You could be in serious danger.”

 

“A woman like me,” Fan is back to looking blatantly unamused, “ _I_ just saved _you_.”

 

“Yes, you did,” Yunho acknowledges, smile sliding back into place, “But I could have managed.” 

 

Fan snorts in response, but her stance relaxes, shoulders leaning back into the wall behind her, “Of course you could.”

 

“You should come with me,” Yunho proposes, “You are _clearly_ meant for greater things than this place. And we could learn from each other!”

 

“‘This place’ is the capital,” she shoots back, and Yunho waves off her concern.

 

“You’re fast.  Your style is quick and clever - I could learn a lot from someone like you.  But you lack the skill for fighting in closer quarters,” Yunho gestures to the tight space of the alley, “I could help with that.” He can see her considering it, so he pushes, “Come with me! I’m on a journey to find a new teacher, maybe we could both be taught?” 

 

“Really? Do you think a master would teach a woman?” The disbelief has crept back into her tone, but it’s less threatening, more open, and Yunho wants her to be honest with him all the time. 

 

“Once they’ve seen what you’re capable of doing, how could they not?” Yunho exhales, vision starting to swim, the exertion catching up with him even as he mutters, “I’ll protect you if you’re worried for you safety...” Yunho’s words trail off as the dizziness cripples him.  He misses how hard Fan rolls her eyes, because he collapses immediately afterward, falling hard to the ground in the alleyway. 

 

* * *

  

They leave the city two days later, after resting and haggling for a second horse for Fan to ride.  He is longer and leaner than Yunho’s own Ferghana, but it suits Fan’s slim frame and delicate hands in a way that makes Yunho stare a little too long.  Fan rides in her hemp clothing, but Yunho sees the white robes and delicate materials folded particularly in one of the bags he saddles on her ride, amused that she brought the exquisite clothes along. But also happy for inexplicable reasons. 

 

He had hoped the young woman would become less of a mystery the longer they spent together - trusting the silence of the land and large open spaces would help her up on their journey.  He gets half of his wish.  Fan becomes less the courtesan and more of herself, which is sharp and sometimes angry, using words that are too cutting for a woman but just right for a warrior.  Other times she laughs and one eye crinkles up more than the other, and Yunho finds himself becoming even more enamored.  However, she still keeps to herself, part shy part private, but occasionally Yunho catches her stare.  So Yunho contents himself with admiring from a distance, even as they share meals and campsites. 

 

They come to a second city on their fifth night of riding.  It is smaller than _Luòyáng_ by nearly half, but it falls closer to the coast and Yunho loves its charm.  The smell of the salty ocean sets his nerves to excitement, the prospect of finding a new teacher soon a thrill and relief all at once. 

 

Staring at the small, walled city Yunho turns, “Should we find lodgings?  I’m sure you’d appreciate an actual bed.”

 

“We can’t stay in an inn,” Fan points, shifting uncomfortably in her saddle, brows drawn together anxiously, “Not unless you’re prepared to act like a couple, and I promise you I am not.” 

 

“Oh,” Yunho watches her profile, at the stiffness to her jaw and decides not to argue.

 

Finding hidden places is nearly second nature now, so they camp just outside the city walls instead, choosing a quiet spot next to a clear stream where they can drink and bathe.  Fan takes to the outside in a way Yunho never expected.  Crossing the country on horseback is one thing, but he could never have imagined Fan, with her silk robes and beautiful hair, sleeping on the hard ground beneath the stars for night after night when a perfectly good city lay within eyesight.  But she does - silk robes still packed away and hair kept in a practical braid instead of intricate twists.

 

On the second day, the two of them peruse the city’s market and pause to look at a vendor selling beautiful glass beads, Yunho amused at how taken Fan still is with pretty things even as she scoffs at their uselessness. 

 

“Hear they got another one,” a voice behind them mutters, a man speaking to an associate.  Yunho and Fan both continue looking at the wares, but listen carefully as they run their fingers over the blue and greens of the jewelry. 

 

“That’s the fifth girl,” the other man shakes his head, spitting off to the side like a curse, “Not from here, but fifth girl I know about.” 

 

“I’m keeping my daughter in the house until this gets settled,” the first man speaks again, fear an undercurrent to the casual comment, and something tightens in Yunho’s stomach, cold and clammy. “She’s going crazy.”

 

“Better bored than dead,” and then the two men continue on their path, leaving Yunho and Fan fan stunned.  After thanking the merchant, they hurry back to their makeshift camp, silent and pondering. 

 

“Someone’s kidnapping women,” Fan finally says into the still air, the words hanging leaden like dense fog.

 

“It sounds like,” Yunho nods, sitting heavily on the ground, running fingers through his ragged hair that falls loose around his face.  It never seems to stay in the leather tie, and Fan nags him about it constantly, tells him to just grow it out, but Yunho refuses.  It gets in his way and prefers it short; it is the one tradition he will flaunt. 

 

“We have to do something,” Fan turns to him, eyes steely determination.

 

The intensity surprises Yunho, “What should we do?”

 

“I don’t know,” she paces, “but we have to do something.”

 

“Why?” Yunho pushes.  Fan stops walking and turns to face him.  “Why do you care about the girls here?”  There was never a chance Yunho would stand by and not help, but he knows this is an opportunity to find something else about his strangely private companion. 

 

“I’m - I’m from this area,” she admits, looking at a spot just over Yunho’s shoulder.  He takes the piece of information and tucks it away, cradling it to his chest like a precious secret. “We should go to the closest lord.  He lives on an island just two days ride away - gather information as we go, then seek an audience.  He’s a master; he should be able to provide some assistance.”  

 

“Is that _the_ master?  The one we’re trying to get to?” Yunho fails to hide his surprise that Fan knows exactly who the master is and where he lives.  It stings, that Fan would keep this from Yunho. 

 

“Yes,” she offers no other explanation, mouth twisted and brows drawn. 

 

“Alright, then that’s what we’ll do.”  There’s more, Yunho can taste it, but he elects to let it go for now.  Fan’s hands twist into the hem of her shirt, distracted.  

 

“We should leave in the morning,” Fan turns abruptly away from Yunho to her bags and fishes out a bar of soap - herbal and perfumed, “Go back to the town and get some food for the journey.  I’m going to bathe.”

 

Yunho gets up and goes without a word, leaving Fan to whatever thoughts she is obviously struggling with.  He spends well over an hour haggling with merchants for dried meats and fruit and wine for the ride ahead, but he returns happy with the result, arms weighed down with the goods. 

 

Fan is no where to be seen when he returns, so he carefully packs away the items so they can load then quickly in the morning.  He spends another ten minutes fiddling with his saddle, studiously ignoring the fact that Fan is only meters away, probably still in the water.  And naked. Very, very naked. 

 

Yunho’s fingers slip clumsily over the leather straps, trying not the think of pale skin and long eyelashes and what must be hidden beneath the hemps and silks.  He wants to slide his hands over her and find out if she is softer than she acts. 

 

 _I’ll just look, only for a moment_ , he compromises with himself.  Even as he makes his way, he feels the guilt creep its way down his shoulders, making them hunch like a criminal as he slips down to the stream.  Yunho stays silent and hides in the shrubs and small trees that surround the stream. 

 

Fan is humming a quiet tune, voice sinuous and enchanting, calling Yunho to where she’s bathing.  He stops behind a bush, hidden from sight but with a clear view of Fan’s back.  She faces away from the bank where Yunho’s crouched, spying and feeling like a filthy pervert for watching his companion.  He wishes he were less desperate to know what she must be like stripped of her guard and totally herself, because the risk of discovery seems worth it for now.   Understanding Fan is worth it. 

 

Yunho listens to his own breathing, purposefully slow and even, not disturbing even the smallest of leaves as he drinks in the sight of Fan’s back.  Her shoulder blades move beneath delicate pale skin, her long length of dark hair pulled forward over one shoulder as she cleans it . She’s broad for a woman, shoulders wide and waist slim, but Yunho only finds her more attractive for it - her strength sets her apart, makes her his equal, and it leaves him flushed and excited. 

 

Yunho is content to stare as the minutes trickle passed, telling himself that it is just her back - nothing so untoward as her chest or anything below the waist.   He drifts off, still watching but half inside his own head, letting his imagination run wild like he never let it when they first met, when she was so cold and beautiful.  She still is all those things, but now Yunho knows she is also clever and capable.  She could undo him completely. 

 

So lost in his own thoughts, he realizes too late that Fan is turning, getting ready to go back to their camp.  With a panicked noise Yunho attempts to scramble away, but he loses his footing and lands hard on his rear, and watches helplessly as Fan faces him.  She is absently braiding her hair, still humming, and misses catch the choked noise that leaves Yunho’s throat at the sight of her.

 

Because it seems doubtful that Fan is a woman. 

 

Fan’s chest is broad and flat, and masculine lines trace her - his? - stomach, and Yunho swallows hard at the sight of a fine trail of hair leading from belly to beneath the water. 

 

“Oh fuck,” he curses, too loud over the blood pounding in his ears, and Fan hears him this time.  His eyes snap up to the bank and hone in on the spot where Yunho sits, still hidden.   He looks angry, mouth thinning into a hard line, and eyes like flint as he stares through the shrub, piercing Yunho through the chest. Panicked, Yunho scrambles from his place and runs back to camp.  

 

He busies himself with reorganizing their provisions, anything to keep his hands busy and stop them from shaking.  He is surprised he there is no sense of betrayal.  Should he be furious?  Fan lied to him outright, had been lying the entire time.  But the lie feels like the least of his worries.  He wants to know why a man would disguise himself in such a way, wants to know more about this person with a thirst that he finds unsettling.  But it is less unsettling than the way his desire to touch and taste has only grown.  He still wants Fan regardless, and Yunho has no idea what to do with this discovery.  He knew of men who took boys as partners, but he had never been one of them - had never considered it until moments ago.  

 

The sound of footsteps jolts him from his own fog of confusion and replaces it with anxiety as Fan enters the clearing, dressed in the plain pants but the shirt hangs loose and untied, the expanse of his chest plain to see.  He is not curling in on himself any longer, and Yunho stares at just how tall and strong Fan really is, so much more obvious without the facade. His face is still the familiar though - the angles and wide mouth Yunho has always known hardened into a line and narrowed as he approaches the camp.   

 

 _He’s trying to unbalance me_ , Yunho thinks with a laugh because Fan has done a better job than he could possibly imagine as far as Yunho’s footing goes.  It feels like he is trying to walk on water right now, and has been since meeting Fan. 

 

They stare at each other, silent until Yunho drops the bag in his hands just so he can hear something besides his own ragged breathing. 

 

“You lied to me,” he decides being direct might be the best approach.

 

“Yes,” is the only response, but the single word is enough for Yunho to pick up on the change in voice.  Fan sounds rougher now, more dangerous, and it sends a chill down Yunho’s spine. 

 

“Why?”

 

“I have my reasons,” Fan takes a step closer, a pleased hum escaping him when Yunho makes no move to run or crowd him in. 

 

“Have you lied about anything else?”  

 

Fan doesn’t answer right away, “Only about my name.  But that is all.”

 

“Only your name and that you’re not actually a woman,” Yunho exhales, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed, “Not all that much really, except those were most of the things I thought I knew about you.”

 

“My name is Changmin, and I am my father’s second son,” the man, Changmin, replies voice soft, “And I am sorry that I lied to you.” 

 

This is a turn Yunho does not expect, the openness and honesty from Changmin. 

 

“But you won’t tell me why?” He pushes, curiosity overcoming his disbelief momentarily, because this person is still Fan, just with a slightly different shell. 

 

“Not today,” Changmin moves closer, and Yunho stands still, wary but relaxed, telling Changmin he will not fight.  Changmin takes another few steps, stopping an arms length from Yunho and waiting. 

 

“But maybe soon?” Yunho’s eyes trace back down Changmin’s chest, sliding across collarbones and broad shoulders before flicking back up to his face. 

 

“Perhaps,” and Changmin smiles the same way as Fan does, slow and secretive, the edges of his generous mouth curving upwards and stealing some of Yunho’s breath. 

 

“Why did you come with me? You didn’t actually need my protection.  I’m not sure you would have even if you were a woman,” Yunho presses, pushing his luck to look for answers. 

 

“Because I wanted to learn from you, experience something new,” Changmin’s gaze flicks down to Yunho’s mouth, and - oh - Yunho thinks that might mean more than just fighting techniques. 

 

“Will you stay?” Yunho asks. 

 

“Will you let me?” 

 

The question drops between them, Changmin laying the choice at Yunho’s feet.  Yunho never had the power between them, not even once, Yunho realizes, not until this moment. He also very much wants Changmin to stay, wants so many other things too. 

 

“Of course, please don’t go,” Yunho smiles and reaches out, hand curving to brush Changmin’s graceful cheek and slender neck, waiting for Changmin to shove him off and snap back into his distant persona that seems to have fallen away in this moment of honesty.  Instead, Changmin leans into Yunho’s hand, eyes dropping to watch Yunho’s mouth once more, and Yunho would be a blind fool to miss the hunger shining in the large brown eyes. 

 

“Then I will stay with you,” Changmin replies, voice cracking with the whisper, and Yunho desperately wants to take the chance, but something must be wrong because his body ignores him, staying still but vibrating with how badly he wants to close the distance. 

 

Changmin, with his sharp eyes and sharper mind, must notice because Yunho blinks once and he feels lips pressed lightly against his own.  They feel like fire, and Yunho inhales sharply at the pressure and the way the heat spreads through his body to settle behind his navel, hot and terrifying and wonderful. 

 

A quiet, quavering thought in the back of his mind tells him this might be wrong, but a thousand other louder thoughts are screaming ‘ _yes,’_   drowning it out when Changmin’s hand curls around his cheek to slant their mouths together, to kiss Yunho slow and maddening, and Yunho never looks back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that the next chapter will earn the explicit rating 'D


	3. Chapter 3

“Why are you wearing those again?” Yunho whispers from the corner of his mouth, eyes gliding over the silk elegance of Changmin’s clothing, and Changmin preens a little at the attention.

 

“I like them,” Changmin fixes the sleeve of his white robe, pulling it over to cover the warm peach undertones of the layer beneath.  He flicks Yunho a look, “Don’t you?”

 

Yunho narrows his eyes from across the table, but feels a flush crawl across his cheeks. Changmin grins, and Yunho stabs his chopsticks into his dumpling.  He likes them more than he cares to say. They fall across Changmin’s frame perfectly, but Yunho spends more time thinking about how they would look as they are peeled back, layer by layer, until there is nothing left but Changmin.  

 

“Don’t look so grumpy,” Changmin gloats, snatching the last lychee from the bowl.  Yunho watches as he purses his lips around the fruit and cannot strangle the sound in the back of his throat soon enough.  

 

“Why aren’t we gathering information?” He tries to pull Changmin back on track, remind him why they are here in this small village, two days ride from the boat that will take them to _Táohuā_ Island, where the master lives.

 

Changmin rests his chopsticks and settles back, “Because we have nothing else to learn.”

 

“Then why are we here?”

 

Eyes wide and considering, Changmin chooses not to respond.  Yunho has an inexplicable urge to dump his cup of disgusting tea right down the front of Changmin’s impeccable outfit just so he looks a little less pieced together, and to see the way it sticks to his skin and -

 

 _Stop right there_ , Yunho shakes his head, clearing out the thoughts that threatened to spill over from his dreams.   They have not touched each other since kissing that evening by the stream, but Yunho wants Changmin desperately - the taste from days before leaving him with a craving sharp enough to cut through the last shreds of his propriety. 

 

A nagging voice tells him that Changmin wants him too.  Finally free of Fan, Changmin had continued to open up over the last few days.  No longer so guarded, Yunho has seen more of the sharp, focused personality he suspected his companion to be hiding.  But Changmin is prickly and waspish, poor temper only growing the nearer they draw to the seaside.  Yet there are split seconds where he catches the younger man watching too closely, but Yunho remains unable read him the way he wants to be able to - like an open book on display.  Yunho is still learning the language Changmin is written in, and his slow progress with the younger man is as maddening as it was when he was first learning to direct his _qi_.

 

“What do we know so far?” Changmin plays with his chopsticks on the table top and watches Yunho expectantly.

 

Yunho puts his own frustrations aside for the moment, glad to be focusing on the injustice at hand.  He hums and steeples his fingers together, “Three girls have gone missing from this village.  The first one taken two months ago.”

 

“So that makes it nine in total,” Changmin mutters, eyes focused on Yunho’s hands.  Yunho hides them beneath the table under the pretense of getting ready to leave. 

 

“Yes, two from the previous village, and five from the islands near _Táohuā_ as well,” Yunho scrounges around in his pouch for some coins to pay for their meal, “I think it could be a ring.”

 

“A kidnapping ring?” Changmin purses his lips, displeased at the idea.  Yunho understands.  Random crime is easy to manage - thieves on the plains were brave but disorganized and stupid, which made them simple to handle.  A ring? A ring means powerful men, clever men.  It means that he and Changmin may be out of their league.

 

“We can’t wait for the emperor or the magistrates,” Yunho drops the coins on the table, “It’s already been too long and no one has made progress.” 

 

“I know,” Changmin sighs, pursing his lips.  It’s entirely too distracting for Yunho’s liking, “We need to do something if no one else will.” 

 

“We’ll need help.  We need to go to the Island if there’s nothing else to be learned here.”

 

“I realize that,” Changmin pins him with a look, and Yunho shifts in his seat at the subdued disdain glittering back at him.   Without a word Changmin leaves the table, exiting the restaurant with Yunho scrambling to catch up. 

 

“Why are you acting like this?” Yunho demands, overtaking Changmin three buildings down. 

 

“Like what?” Changmin pretends to look at the awning above Yunho’s head, but Yunho is done letting Changmin throw his strange fit of pique.  As one who hates to play games, Changmin’s avoidance and half truths are wearing him down.  

 

“Like the ocean around the island must be filled with poision, like you would rather eat your way through a pig’s trough than go to _Táohuā,_ ” he lists off, hand reaching to touch Changmin’s shoulder.  “If you want to confront a kidnapping ring, then we need more training.  We can’t possibly hope to help those girls without it, so why are you being so difficult?” 

 

“I told you I was from the area,” Changmin gets out stiffly, but does not shake Yunho’s hold.  His eyes finally slide to catch Yunho’s, “My father is the lord of _Táohuā_ as well as the master you seek.” 

 

“You,” Yunho grips Changmin harder, “You’re his second son.” 

 

“Yes,” and the bitterness spills out of Changmin like a dam broken, “And I left. Months ago. I needed to get away from him, needed to find my own way, and now it seems that my way is taking me back much sooner than I had ever planned.” He breathes harshly as the silence stretches between him until Changmin frowns, turning thoughtful once more, “But I am sorry for taking it out on you.  None of this is your fault.”

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t meant to drag you back,” Yunho brushes his fingers along the nape of Changmin’s neck,  and hopes the shiver that graces down Changmin’s spine is more than his imagination.  

 

“You’re not dragging me back; I’m walking there with you.  Or at least, I’ll stop digging my heels in so much,” Changmin smiles softly, and Yunho knows he is in too deep and has no hope of going back.  Changmin angry and indignant is a sight to behold with his cold beauty, but this Changmin who’s soft and honest is something precious to him already.  “We can leave in the morning.  I’m sorry about all of this.” 

 

“It’s okay, Changminnie,” the nickname slips out, and this time Yunho knows his eyes were not playing tricks on him when Changmin’s breathing hitches.  A little noise catches itself in Changmin’s throat and his body wires with tension at the affectionate name. 

 

“Yunho,” Changmin licks his lips, and Yunho thinks once again how gorgeous his mouth is - how it is not fair that Changmin has all of his handsome beauty and Yunho is powerless in its wake, “Yunho, lets go back to the inn.” 

 

* * *

 

Nervousness snarls Yunho’s stomach, twisting and churning as he follows Changmin back to their room. The space is simple - two mats and single screen taking up most of it, and the rest is dedicated to a small table and a once empty corner where they’ve tossed their traveling bags.  It would be small on a good day, but now it is nothing short of stifling, Yunho choking on the energy crackling between himself and the younger man as Yunho shuts the door, closing them off from the rest of the guests.  

 

Distracted by his own roiling thoughts, Yunho jumps when he feels Changmin’s hand settle warm and heavy on his shoulder.  Yunho lets himself be slowly dragged around until he finds himself confronted with Changmin’s eyes.  They are liquid pools of slow desire, and Yunho feels lust slice through him like one of Changmin’s needles.  Unavoidable and deadly. 

 

Changmin draws closer, close enough that Yunho thinks he could count the number of lashes fanning across Changmin’s cheeks when he blinks.  It would be a welcome distraction from the way Changmin’s hands rest against his chest and the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. 

 

“Yunho,” Changmin breathes, “I want you to undress me.”

 

“What?” Yunho stares at Changmin’s face, dazed at the offer, sure of the implication. 

 

“It’s late,” the sun has barely begun to set, “and I want you to undress me.” 

 

The white robes are as soft as they look, and Yunho toys with the edges of Changmin’s sleeves as he takes a steadying breath, trying to ground himself before replying, “Okay.” 

 

Changmin smiles, satisfied but nervous, and it is beautiful.  Yunho tucks the memory of the soft expression away, kept safe along with Changmin’s laugh and wit and all of the other things he thinks he is beginning to love about the young man.  Before touching the robes, Yunho bends his head forward and seals his lips against Changmin’s once again, stealing away the smile for good and replacing it with his own breath.   The slow, heart rattling kiss is everything he remembered it being, Changmin’s mouth soft and giving beneath his own.  He tastes like the lychees he ate at lunch, and Yunho thinks he could become greedy for Changmin’s mouth if given half the chance but knows he already craves it with desperation. 

 

“Please,” Changmin gasps against his lips, and Yunho realizes that the other man is shaking, a minute tremble traveling down his his limbs and spine that Yunho can feel beneath his palms as he runs his hands across Changmin’s back, pressing against sharp shoulder blades to steady them both. He gives Changmin a final soft kiss on the cheek before moving to grasp at Changmin’s waist.   

 

The silks whisper as Yunho gently frees the tie, and the fabric drifts to the ground between their feet.  The white layer slips and shirrs, opening at the front and exposing a sliver of the soft skin of Changmin’s neck. Yunho stops to taste that too, fingers sliding beneath the fabric to trace the softness of the peach under robe, teasing and mapping Changmin’s chest as he sucks a mark into Changmin’s throat. 

 

“Yun _ho_ ,” fingers curl into Yunho’s hair and force him back up from where he is perfectly content to continue licking and biting claims into the column of Changmin’s throat, “I didn’t say tease me.” 

 

“I know,” Yunho grins back cheekily, hands moving to Changmin’s shoulders beneath the white fabric, “But you have all these layers, and it might take me a while to get through them all.” 

 

He pushes back on the undone clothing, and Changmin steps away, eyes trained on Yunho’s face as he lets the fabric slide from his arms, leaving him in the soft peaches and pinks that have distracted Yunho for weeks now.  Yunho’s cock strains at the front of his pants as he watches Changmin stand there, arms awkwardly at his sides but chin tilted upwards in the perfect picture of misplaced confidence. 

 

“Oh, Changmin,” Yunho breathes, fingers brushing across the collar, flicking beneath the edge to press against a sharp collarbone to see how Changmin’s eyes flutter and mouth parts wetly on a gasp, “You’re beautiful.” 

 

“Do you think so?” The question catches Yunho off guard, the sincerity of it a shock coming from  the younger man who always seems to preen and take such blatant pride in his appearance.  

 

“You don’t know?” He asks in return, loosening the ties at the side of the peach layer, head cocked and eyes watching as Changmin flushes.  “Oh. You really don’t.” 

 

“Know what?” Changmin huffs, trying to affect indifference when Yunho knows better because he feels the way Changmin shudders when he brushes his hands up Changmin’s sides and wraps his fingers tight around his waist. 

 

Carefully, Yunho draws Changmin close enough to press his lips against the surprised man’s forehead, dragging them down to a cheek then finally his wide, insufferable mouth.  

 

“You’re stunning.  I haven’t been able to think about anything else since meeting you,” Yunho exhales, tries to breathe the words into Changmin and make him see what Yunho has been looking at for days and weeks and longed for with a wild, flame-licked desire. 

 

Color brushes Changmin’s cheeks, paints him a beautiful shade of red across his nose and up to his ears, “I’ve never done this before.” 

 

“That’s okay,” Yunho smiles, pulling the next layer of Changmin’s robes free and sliding them to the floor to join the white and the belt at their feet, “Me neither.” 

 

They stumble to the mats set up in the corner of the room, and Changmin watches from them as  Yunho strips off his own robe, leaving his basic shirt and loose pants on as Changmin restlessly urges him to hurry. 

 

“So impatient,” Yunho grins as he joins Changmin on the floor, shoving the blankets off to the side so he can bury against Changmin without tangling with anything but Changmin’s legs.

 

“Yes. We established this,” Changmin growls, pulling Yunho to settle above him, legs a perfect cradle for Yunho’s hips, “And you still have a couple of more layers to go.” 

 

“I do, don’t I?” Yunho runs his hands up Changmin’s thighs, bunching the fabric of the last, soft pink layer up around his waist, exposing the band of Changmin’s pants beneath the swath of fabrics.    Changmin’s stomach goes concave as he sucks in a sharp breath when Yunho runs his fingers beneath the top of the trousers, skimming the light dusting of hair beneath Changmin’s navel and the soft skin on the inside of his hip bones. 

 

“Gorgeous, so gorgeous, Changmin,” Yunho leans forward to press kisses into the newly exposed skin, so eager for a taste.  Quiet gasps push passed Changmin’s lips as Yunho uses his teeth and tongue to leave the smallest of marks that blossom the same pretty pink hue as Changmin’s final robe. 

 

“Why are you so irritating?” Changmin asks, but the breathless quality takes the sting from the question.  

 

“I’m learning,” Yunho nuzzles into the crux of Changmin’s hip, feeling the roughness of the fabric against his cheek and the heat rolling off Changmin’s skin just below the plain cloth. 

 

“I- you - you,” Changmin stutters before settling on, “Come here.” 

 

Obeying the command, Yunho stretches out above Changmin’s long lean form, taking in the bright eyes and wet mouth before kissing Changmin again, deep and wonderful.  Yunho is perfectly content to keep kissing Changmin until the younger man’s thigh comes up to rub against Yunho’s erection, and he pulls away with a gasp at the friction.  

 

“Do you still want to go this slow?” Changmin grins and presses up again, relishing the garbled moan from deep in Yunho’s chest.  Yunho grinds down once more, just to feel the shock of pleasure that shoots through his body and see the way Changmin watches him so openly.  

 

“Tell me what to do then, if you don’t like it,” Yunho decides it is time to pull the final tie loose on Changmin’s robe, watching it fall open to show the simple shirt and pants beneath.  They look much like the ones Yunho’s still wearing, and it makes the older man smile. 

 

With an impatient growl, Changmin shoves Yunho away and goes to his bag, shedding the loose robe as he goes, and Yunho watches it flutter to the ground with satisfaction.

 

“I want you undressed when I turn around,” Changmin announces voice stern and almost steady if the rough edge were less noticeable.  Yunho jumps to comply as Changmin roots through their bags, and strips off his shirt and pants before Changmin returns with a small pot in the palm of his hand. 

 

Eyes drag over him, and Yunho shifts self consciously on the mat beneath the gaze, struggling not to cover himself because Changmin wants to see all of him, and Yunho wants him to look.  

 

Changmin settles back down on the mats, crowding against Yunho, trailing lips over Yunho’s shoulder and neck, the gentle presses raking shivers down Yunho’s spine.  The small room feels too hot, the air too close as Changmin drags his hands across Yunho’s thighs and shoulders, touching and feeling at every opportunity, and Yunho’s desperation notches higher. 

 

“Why are you still wearing these?” Yunho asks, breath short, hands running up under Changmin’s shirt to tease peaked nipples, wrenching a surprised gasp, huffed hot and close to Yunho’s neck. 

 

“Because you haven’t taken them off me,” Changmin retorts before twisting them around so he can lie back down, small porcelain jar next to his head.  He reaches for Yunho, soft and pleading, and of course Yunho goes.

 

“Well I should change that, I guess,” Yunho smiles, pulling off Changmin’s shirt and mussing the younger man’s hair, strands pulling free from his braid to fall around his face in wispy pieces.  Changmin grumbles and brushes them back.  Yunho laughs as he slides pants from long legs while Changmin is too distracted by his hair to be embarrassed at his nakedness.  

 

The clothes are tossed far away so Yunho can finally _finally_ drink in the sight of Changmin laid bare for him, spread out and flushed on the mess of mats and blankets.  Uninterrupted plains of pale skin are mapped by Yunho’s hands, and paths are traced with his mouth as he works from lips to chest to stomach once more, letting Changmin’s quiet gasps guide him.  But he stops just above the dark patch of hair surrounding Changmin’s half hard cock, unsure of what comes next.  

 

“Here,” Changmin exhales roughly when he senses the hesitation and reaches for the jar, pressing it into Yunho’s hands.  Opening the top, the scent of rose assaults Yunho, a fresh green sweetness countering the musk of their arousals.  He stares at it, and thinks he understands but still glances at Changmin who has gone a spectacular shade of red once again. 

 

“Pour it in your hand,” his voice is strained and embarrassed, and Yunho smiles.

 

“Changminnie, where did you learn this?” he pours the liquid into his hand and the scent fills their room, curling around them, and Yunho knows he will always think of this moment when he sees or smells a rose for the rest of his life. Slowly, he wraps his hand around Changmin’s length and starts stroking, pace steady as he brings Changmin to full hardness, fascinated by the little furrow between Changmin’s brows and the soft panting noises huffed passed a red mouth.  Yunho tries to bring Changmin to the brink with little twists and touches, watching as the careful control the young man has cracks under his hands. 

 

“Oh god, Yunho,” Changmin digs his hand into Yunho’s arm, trying to push him off, so Yunho stops, still waiting for an answer.  “There was a scroll,” Changmin reaches and slicks the oil over Yunho’s fingers, carefully covering all of them.  Yunho tries to picture a younger Changmin stumbling across the erotic drawings and poems, eyes wide and cheeks red with embarrassment, and the image has his breaths coming less steadily as Changmin pours even more oil over his hand.

 

“Why are-”

 

“Inside me,” Changmin cuts him off and guides Yunho’s fingers to where he needs them, down between his legs, and Yunho understands.   Shaking Changmin’s grip from his wrist, Yunho presses soft kisses to the inside of Changmin’s thighs, spreading him wide so he can angle his fingers just so and slide them in, slow and perfect. 

 

Changmin opens up for him with a small gasp, bottom lip sucked between teeth.  Yunho pulls in a harsh breath through his nose at the tightness around his finger and the way Changmin’s eyes shut at the feeling.  

 

“Does it hurt?” Yunho worries, cannot imagine that this is comfortable, but Changmin shakes his head.

 

“No, just strange, keep going, Yunho,” so Yunho does.  They kiss again as Yunho stretches Changmin open with is hands and the rose oil, slick smearing over Changmin’s thighs and getting it on himself as well, dripping it onto his own legs and all over the mats.  Yunho adds another finger as he is told, Changmin biting at a sharp jawline as he rocks down, loosening himself more on Yunho’s fingers, slowly relaxing into the stretch.  Yunho encourages him with praise and stifled moans muffled against lips, neck, shoulders.  Changmin’s cock is hard still, curving up towards his stomach, and Yunho thinks about what it might taste like, how it would feel against his tongue, but a curse from Changmin brings him back to reality. 

 

“Enough,” Changmin is beautifully disheveled, flushed and panting on the mats, and Yunho’s lust spikes at the sight of Changmin looking so undone. 

 

“Are you sure?” Yunho spreads his fingers - now three - inside Changmin, pushing against the rim, wanting to make sure he is as ready as he can be.  Yunho does not want to hurt him, but Changmin growls and narrows his eyes and that effectively ends of the discussion.  

 

Slowly, carefully, Yunho removes his fingers and grabs for the oil again, shaking a little, unsteadied by his own arousal and the way Changmin exhales so softly at the loss.  Slicking himself quickly, Yunho hovers over Changmin, arms braced on either side of his face, content to watch for one more moment.  Changmin’s eyes are blown dark dark brown, bright and nearly feverish, and Yunho suspects he looks much the same, mussed and desperate.  He kisses Changmin again, opening his mouth to let the younger man lick along the ridges of his teeth and take whatever Yunho gives him - it would be everything if that is what Changmin wanted. 

 

Yunho rolls his hips on a moan when Changmin bites down on his lower lip, Yunho’s cock sliding against Changmin’s hipbone, smooth with oil and Changmin whines at the back of his throat. 

 

“Now, Yunho, do it now, fuck me,” Changmin reaches down to stroke at Yunho’s erection, and raises his hips up, and the head slides against his ass, dipping in and rubbing against his stretched entrance, and Yunho groans at the slick heat.  Together, balancing and guiding, Yunho manages to press inside, cursing at the tightness.  It takes time, Yunho pushing in with small measured thrusts, working Changmin open with his dick as he strokes the younger man, trying to keep him hard as he gasps at the stretch.  Eventually, Yunho settles in deep, hips pressed flush against Changmin’s ass, choking down air as he stills himself. 

 

“Wait, please,” Changmin groans, eyes drawn shut tight against the burn, and Yunho shakes and obeys.  He can sense a pattern emerging. 

 

Minutes float by, and Yunho distracts himself from the tight, overwhelming heat of Changmin by counting the younger man’s inhales and exhales, the way he breathes when Yunho stretches him open and sits inside him.  It is nearly overwhelming, thinking about how all of his delusions are coming true, and Yunho tamps down on the urge to move, waiting patiently, disciplined, for Changmin’s word that he can - that he will not hurt the younger man. 

 

“Changmin,” Yunho gasps, watching carefully, learning the minute curves and little tremors coursing across Changmin’s face and body. 

 

“Yunho, Yunho move,” Changmin arches, rocking down against Yunho’s thighs, and the sudden friction against Yunho’s dick is almost too much.  But Changmin bare and laid out underneath him, stretched thin and anxious, desperate - is a terrifying combination, and Yunho can only listen and follow directions. 

 

Yunho pulls out and thrusts back in quickly, burying himself in Changmin’s body as fast as he leaves it, reveling in the strangled moan that works its way between Changmin’s lips.  It still has an edge of pain and Yunho waits again as Changmin breathes through it, shifting and grinding down minutely, much to Yunho’s crazed pleasure.

 

“Changmin,” his hands grip bruises into Changmin’s hips, and Yunho knows he is not going to last. Changmin whines again, wriggling and trying to adjust. 

 

“It’s okay,” Changmin wraps his hand around his own erection and works it quickly, back arching at the twin sensations of being fucked open and a hand on his dick, “I’m fine, it’s good, just- just keep going. Please, Yunho keep going.”

 

Head down, pressed into Changmin’s shoulder, Yunho does exactly that, fucking into Changmin with harsh, unmeasured thrusts, hips rocking forward with a fast, sloppy rhythm.  He seems unable to do anything else with Changmin’s clenching heat driving him mad and the overwhelming newness of it all making him overeager.  

 

But Changmin seems no better, eyes shut, mouth open on gasped renditions of Yunho’s name, hand working his cock, the other scraping over Yunho’s shoulder, back, chest when thrusts rut particularly deep or the angle feels especially good.  It’s gorgeous and Yunho loves the slight pain sparking across his skin, heightening just how good Changmin feels beneath him, around him, like a punch to the chest.  Yunho can hardly breathe and feels so close to coming, pleasure curling heavy down his spine, down to his balls that tighten with release. 

 

“Changmin, I can’t- I’m going to-” Yunho chokes out, thrusting harder, erratic, breath stuck in the back of his throat. 

 

“Me too,” Changmin nods, eyes opening, blown dark and half lidded, “I want you to do it, Yunho.”

 

The desire and command twine into something powerful, and Yunho half sobs half moans as he drives into Changmin with everything he has.

 

“Now, Yunho,” Changmin’s hand brushes against Yunho’s stomach as he works himself faster, desperation edging the movements, and he drives himself down onto Yunho with equal harshness, meeting the rhythmless thrusting, “Do it now, please, Yunho, just do it now.”

 

And of course, Yunho does, coming with a gasp, trying to fuck through it, wanting to watch Changmin come undone, but it is all hazy and heavy and Yunho cannot concentrate on anything other than the rushing in his ears and the tightness being released through his entire body. But it is enough to have Changmin arching beneath him, painting both of their stomachs and chest with stripes of come, mouth open on a low, keening moan.  

 

Yunho tries to stay up, he really does, but he collapses anyway, on top of Changmin, exhausted and feeling the slickness of oil and come between them.  It has him smiling like an idiot.  Changmin does not even bother scolding, just moves around, huffing and shoving until Yunho slips out from inside him.

 

He finally manages to get the boneless older man pressed against his side, legs tangled and fingers twisting together in the warm afterglow.  

 

“Was that okay?” Changmin asks, voice quiet and husky, and Yunho has to bite back a groan at how fucked out it sounds.

 

He fails to sound much better, “Yeah, yeah it was.  Are- are _you_ okay?” Yunho bites his lip, cupping Changmin’s face, watching for a flicker of anything, but all he sees is satisfaction and fuzzy exhaustion.  

 

“Stop it, I’m fine,” Changmin mutters, burrowing closer, and Yunho can already hear Changmin’s complaints about waking up sticky and covered in come, but sleep pulls his limbs into stillness, and Yunho’s eyes flutter shut. 

 

* * *

 

Morning arrives with a sharp brightness, and Changmin noisily using the water from the pot brought to their room, muttered curses spilling from his mouth.

 

Yunho blinks the sleep from his eyes, watching as a still naked Changmin runs a damp cloth over his chest, cleaning the remnants of last night from his skin.  Yunho flushes as the white cloth moves from toned stomach to the softness of Changmin’s thighs, skimming over the smatterings of red marks left by Yunho’s mouth.  He tries to stay quiet, feeling like an intruder once again as he watches Changmin bathe, less inhibited than during the day, eyes narrowed and mouth pouted.

 

Eventually, lying still becomes difficult, so Yunho stretches on the mat, feeling the pull and soreness in his knees and thighs, relishing it like he would the soreness after a long training session, enjoying the feelings of strain and hard work.  He opens his eyes to Changmin watching him, a glint of hunger lighting his gaze as it traces Yunho’s body.  Yunho grins. 

 

“Good morning,” he smiles wider at Changmin’s blush before rising and pulling on his pants and shirt once again.

 

Changmin just nods, finishing with the cloth before reaching for his own clothes.  Yunho tries not to pout, unsure if the silence is coldness or awkwardness.

 

“I um- I asked about breakfast,” Changmin mutters as he pulls on his shirt, “The keeper said we could get something before we leave.” 

 

Awkwardness it is, and Yunho grins at the hapless attempt at conversation, “Thank you, Changminnie.”  He moves in quick before Changmin can stop him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to gather their things scattered about the room. “We should get moving then.  We want to try to make it to your- to _Táohuā_ by tomorrow.” 

 

Changmin makes a noise at the back of his throat - a little despairing, a little annoyed, and Yunho brushes his fingers down Changmin’s spine once in comfort.  It does not take long for them to finish packing.  There is a method to it now, both of them working in tandem to get it done faster, and within the hour the horses are loaded.

 

Yunho leads them out to the gate and notes the way Changmin eyes them warily, but he waits to say something until they leave the city and Changmin takes his time getting up on his horse’s back. He fidgets, adjusting himself on his seat, wrinkling his fresh set of robes, and Yunho frowns.

 

“Is something wrong?” He asks, concern lacing through his voice at the way Changmin winces. “Did you hurt yourself riding yesterday?”

 

“No,” Changmin hisses, shooting Yunho a vicious glare, “I hurt myself because you fucked me open with your ridiculous cock.” Yunho’s mouth snaps shut, first in horror, but then in hilarity as he tries to fight the urge to laugh at the look of discomfort on Changmin’s face.  It really is not funny, but eventually a smile breaks free and Changmin curses him.

 

“If you think it’s funny, I’ll be more than happy to return the favor,” he glowers, shifting around on top of his horse.

 

“Okay,” Yunho grins back, feeling a little warm under his riding clothes at the thought of having Changmin that way.

 

Changmin stares at him for longer than strictly necessary, eyes wide before abruptly riding out in front of Yunho, who has to hurry to catch up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was a decent middle chapter! I'm posting this now because this week promises to be a bear, and didn't want to miss updating it! End of the months are always brutal, so hopefully I'll get the next chapter up by next Wednesday. But if I don't it's because school/work/other things got in the way - so sorry!


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